


The Other Side: Part Fourteen

by PiscesPenName



Series: The Other Side Series [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginismus, vulvodynia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName





	The Other Side: Part Fourteen

Dean opened the cabin door and slipped in. He gave Carrie a weary smile. His voice was whiskey gravel. "Hey. I need a place to crash."

"You can always crash here with me," she said with a seductive smile.

"My favorite place to do it," he responded.

He seemed subdued until he closed the door and encroached on her space. He swept her into his arms.

She grabbed onto his sides in an embrace and Dean hissed.

She jerked her hands back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin." He said.

Carrie lifted his shirt. His ribs had the beginnings of a massive bruise. "Oh my god, Dean, you're hurt."

Dean grimaced and tugged it back down. "Carrie, don't make this weird."

He took her hands in his and leaned to kiss her.

She turned her head away. "Dean," her eyes welled up.

"Come on," he moaned, dropping her hands. "Why do you have to make this a big deal?"

"Because you're really hurt." She said, running her hands over his ribs.

He winced. "Carrie... I just want to..." he trailed off and closed his eyes.

"What?" She asked.

"I just wanna be inside you."

He leaned to kiss her ear. "Please."

"But..." she let him reach down to pop the button on her jeans. He parted the fly and tugged them down. They fell off the swell of her hips and she stepped out of them.

He blew out a breath of air as he watched her. "So gorgeous." He whispered.

Dean undid his own belt and dropped his pants. He gestured for her to come over. She did and Dean took hold of her and pushed her back into the kitchen cabinets as he kissed her.

"So gorgeous." He whispered, lifting her up onto the countertop. It was cold on her ass. Dean had parted her legs and was between them before she could register what was happening.

She could feel her heart hammering in a scared anticipation. There was no question that this was going to hurt if he didn't ease her into it. Carrie was intimidated by his urgency.

He pressed the length of his body against her, rubbing her back. "I need you baby." His voice caught. "Need you. Please." He leaned into her ear. "Can I?"

She reached down between them and took hold of him firmly. The breath went out of him in a shaking moan.

She ran her fingers around the head of him, he was already wet. He rocked himself into her palm. Carrie toyed with him a few minutes, trying to get her mindset focused on sex and not worried about him. It was difficult.

Her arousal was pushed under by her concern and a bit of fear at his erratic behavior.

She pulled him to her entrance and he surged into her in a long thrust. She yelled, clenching up involuntarily.

That seemed to bring him back to himself. He stilled and his arms went around her. "I'm sorry, baby."

She had her hands on his hips to keep him from moving. She took a few deep breaths. Dean bowed his head and rested his chin on her shoulder, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

He gave another little push and she resisted the forward movement with her hands. "Don't hurt me."

That snapped him out of it completely. He pulled back, his eyes locked on hers. His breath hot on her face. His lip trembled for a second. "Am I..."

"It's fine," she said. "Just be still inside me."

His nostrils flared as he closed his eyes. "Carrie..."

"I'm here." She whispered.

He pressed his forehead against hers and she could feel his body trembling at the effort to keep still. Not moving was against every instinct he had to thrust. To take her hard and fast.

"It's okay." She whispered. 

Her body was finally getting used to having him inside her. She felt herself relax a little. Dean stayed still a moment and then drove himself in further until he was deep.

Carrie cried out, her legs seizing around his hips. After the initial discomfort, he felt good.

He started rocking gently. She moaned, locking her legs around his waist and leaned back against the counter on her elbows. Dean's hands went under her thighs to lift her up into him. He slid out slowly and then back in.

"Oh god." She whispered. He gave a few shallow thrusts and then one slow and deep one and she felt herself start to come apart under him.

Her body was answering his urgency with her own. He started with the shallow fast movements again, the sting of it melting into a warm pleasure. When she didn't stop him he snapped his hips harder and deeper. She cried out arching her back, sliding against the countertop.

Dean had lost himself in a rhythm. He was tense, she could feel every bit of him stiff and unyielding. She tried to pull herself back up but the angle he had her at was making it impossible but to brace against the counter.

"Dean..." her voice was a rebuke but then she felt him angle into her sweet spot and she almost gave way and banged her head on the Formica.

"Hey!" She panted.

He slowed his rhythm and pulled her up into his arms, changing the angle. She was so close to him now. Intertwined. He started again, the angle much shallower.

He snapped into her, breathing heavily, grunting with each few thrusts and then she felt him swell inside her and she knew he was close. His pace grew erratic and a shiver ran up his thighs. He cried out and she felt a flood of warmth in her.

Dean's eyes were streaming and it pulled her from her lust into concern. He saw her face and pulled out of her, set her back down and turned her away from him. His fingers went to her clit and worked there until she was lost in a warm flood of sensation that had her crying out and clutching the countertop, her legs shaking, heart pounding.

She stood trembling, her womb a little sore, as she leaned on the counter for support. She caught her breath and looked behind her. Dean was bending to pull up his pants.

"Wh..what was that?" She asked.

He looked up at her. "Um. I thought that was self-explanatory."

She bit her lip. Unsure of how she felt.

His momentary show of weakness was gone. He buckled his belt and arranged himself. "What are you looking at me like that for?" He asked, a bit of his characteristic concern creeping in.

"I..." she actually felt a little used but she didn't know how to explain that to him or even if it was a fair thing to feel. "Nevermind."

She grabbed her pants.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked.

She shrugged, silent.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." He said, a little chastened. "I..." he looked at her, true vulnerability in his eyes. "Yeah. That was kind of an asshole move for me. I know you need warming up. I'm sorry."

He put his hand to his side and winced a little. "Don't know if I did my ribs any favor either."

Carrie approached him. "Let me see, baby."

He stood there and she lifted his shirt, glancing at the damage and wondering what had caused it. Afraid to know. "Have you seen a doctor?"

He gave her an annoyed look.

"Right. Okay, that's a no."

She felt around the skin. He was tender, his abs jumping with her touch. "Easy," she whispered.

Carrie coaxed him over to the cold surface of the stove. "Sit."

Dean sat carefully and watched her as she rifled through her first aid kit and got an Arnica cream. "Lift your shirt for me."

He did and she gently started to rub it in, touching as carefully as she could.

He bit his lower lip and squelched a vocalization. Puffing a few hard breaths through his nose.

"Good boy, hold still. Almost done." She smoothed it into every inch she could and then stood up. "Why don't you lay down. Want me to put some cold cloths on it?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay. Trust me. Too much pain and I wouldn't have been able to get it up. It's just sore."

"What happened to you?"

He shrugged non-comitally. "Hazard of of the job."

"That's vague."

Dean stood up and put his hand gently to her jaw. He locked gazes with her. "There's some things that you are just better off not knowing."

Carrie frowned a little.

"Hey," he said softly. "I am protecting you. The kind of shit out there..." his gaze went inward a bit.

She rubbed his arm absently.

His upper lip twitched. "It destroyed my dad and he was an ex-marine."

"I didn't think anything bothered John."

"It did." Dean shucked off his green jacket and dropped it on the chair. "He drank a lot."

"Any hunter I've known seems to."

"Yeah." Dean said softly. "Hey, I'm sorry I was so rough with you."

"You weren't rough just...overly enthusiastic." She said, leaning back on the counter.

"I can tell you didn't like it."

"It's a little scary to know I can't stop you if I want."

Dean's brows pulled together and his face hardened into a scowl. "Of course you can." He said. "I'm not gonna keep fucking you if you tell me to stop."

"But if you didn't want to stop... I can't make you."

Dean tipped his head, considering. "You can make me...just tell me."

"Okay." Carrie hopped up on the counter top again and swung her feet against the cabinets. "You're missing the point. At any time you can over power me. Right now you could."

Dean gave her a quizzical look. "Well yeah...and?"

"And it makes me scared if I'm reminded of that when we have sex."

He stepped toward her, she opened her legs and he stood between them. He leaned his forehead tenderly against hers. "Don't be scared of me ever, baby."

"I'm not." She replied, putting her arms around him.

"Sounds it."

Carrie felt a tightness in her chest. Something she couldn't verbalize, a bit of anxiety. "I just don't want you to hurt me."

"Would never hurt you, baby."

"You'd never on purpose." She clarified.

He looked at her. She could read that that somehow hurt his feelings. He swallowed and looked away.

She kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes at the gesture, leaned into her a little more.

"You know, that's kinda opposite most girls, they want to feel claimed. Or like I'm holding them down."

Carrie felt her heart speed up. "I don't."

"I know." He said amiably. "That's fine sweetheart. Different strokes, different folks."

She gave him a shy grin. "Well I only know what strokes Dean Winchester likes."

His return smile was radiant.

She smiled back. "You get off on that, don't you?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Okay what else do you get off on?" Carrie prompted.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh, we're sharing kinks now, huh?"

She dropped her eyes shyly.

"Better question is what do YOU get off on."

"No fair!" Carrie rebutted. "I asked you first."

"Fine." Dean went to the icebox and grabbed a beer. He popped the tab and took a long swallow. Carrie watched his throat work. "I like... lotsa things."

"Like..."

"Nurses. Hey I told you some of mine. We did one of mine."

She slid down off the counter. "Yes we did and you have a fantastic ass."

Dean craned his neck to look behind him. "Yeah?"

"Yes." She said, walking over and giving the curve a little spank. "It's poetry."

He grinned boyishly. He liked praise she noticed, ate it up, in fact.

"You're dodging the question." He put his lips around his beer bottle and tipped it down his throat in a long swallow. Then looked at her challengingly. "Be a bad girl and tell me."

Carrie flushed. "I'm not sure I have one yet."

"Oh bull." He fixed her with a pointed look. "What do you fantasize about?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"Everything."

"No gotta be more specific."

"Different things we've tried..." her cheeks were pink.

"Like?" Dean was watching her with affection. Luckily he seemed to find her shyness cute most of the time.

Carrie looked away, unable to meet his gaze for some reason. "I like everything we've tried, mostly."

"You know, you are..." he paused, searching for the correct word. "Modest for a nurse."

She shrugged. "I guess work is work and this feels different somehow. Plus I'm not naked at work."

Dean widened his eyes in mock disbelief. "You mean the porn I've been watching isn't accurate?" He shook his head sadly. "Damn."

Carrie giggled. "You're such an ass."

"Come on." He pushed, nudging her with his elbow playfully. "Tell me some fantasy of yours we haven't tried."

Her body rocked with the shove. "I think we've tried most of them."

He snorted, leaned against the counter top. "There's so many things we haven't tried."

Carrie looked at the floor and then made herself meet his gaze. Tried to tell herself he'd seen her in every possible situation. This was not the person to be shy with. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to straddle you in a chair or have you bend me over the bed." She looked around. "We don't have a bed."

Dean crossed one leg in front of the other, setting his hip against the cupboard. "Don't insult our mattresses. Those suckers have done well. " He took another drink.

She looked up. "The backseat of your car."

He perked up with a smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She tried to not think about all the other girls he'd probably had back there over the years.

"We can do all those things."

Carrie tilted her head and met his eyes.

"What?" He asked.

She waved it off. "Nothing."

He walked up behind her and arrested her movement by wrapping his arms around her. He pushed his hip up against her ass. "We don't need a bed to bend you over. Lots of stuff here to do that with." His voice was whiskey gravel.

She grimaced and wiggled out of his grip. "Dean. I'm not ready again yet. And you sure as hell shouldn't be."

"I'm always ready." He let her go and sat heavily in one of the chairs. His face was tight and weighted again.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me nothing. I'm not an idiot."

"Ribs hurt a little." He said, downplaying his discomfort as usual.

"I know." She approached and touched his t-shirt. "Why don't you lie down and let me baby you?"

"I'm not used to being babied." He protested.

"It's nice." She cooed.

"Yeah whatever. I need another beer." He got up and wandered to the cooler again.

She eyed him sharply. Things falling a little into place. "You been hitting the booze hard?"

He stopped midway through opening the beer and shrugged. "Little bit maybe."

She gave him a disapproving look.

"Don't judge me!" He snapped. "You go out and do what I do every fucking day and see if you drink a little!"

Carrie didn't back down. "Just because you have a reason doesn't make it any less destructive."

His jaw went tight, he drained half his beer in one long draft, almost in defiance. He slammed it on top of the pot bellied stove. It made an ominous clank of glass against iron.

Carrie didn't rise to the display of temper. She crossed her arms. "Why don't you just talk to me about what the problem is instead of throwing tantrums or getting drunk off your ass?"

"I'm not doing either." He said, his dander up. She could see the visible narrowing of his eyes, tensing of his shoulders.

She looked at him measuringly. He was going to fight her. Was looking for it.

Carrie took the beer off of the stove and drained the rest. She grimaced. "Never did like the taste of hopps."

The move baffled him and he relaxed. "It's an acquired taste," he said.

"Last time you were here you told me you were in over your head. Is it still that bad?"

 Dean looked away, his shoulders tight. 

"Talk to me." She coaxed. "Things okay with Sam?"

 

"Things are never okay with that pain in the ass." He replied bitterly. 

 

She lifted an eyebrow. "Dean. You love him."

 

"Doesn't mean he isn't a pain in the fucking ass. Every time shit gets tough, he bails," There was definite heat behind the words. The two of them had to be fighting about something. "I wanna knock his teeth out. But he's my brother."

 

"I somehow think he thinks the same thing about you, Dean."

 

"I don't bail when things go south." He replied vehemently. "I'm LOYAL. I do my job and I stick to it even when it sucks. Dad taught me that." Dean dropped back into the chair.

 

She listened to him vent for a minute. He was actually quaking slightly with repressed anger. 

 

"It will work itself out." She said assuredly, drawing on all the quiet center she could. "I promise. And whatever you're into, that will work out too. It just takes time."

 

He was silent in his disagreement.

 

She stepped in close and put her arms around him. Dean seemed to understand physicality more than words. 

 

He didn't return the hug, still tense. 

 

She let him go and dropped down into a crouch in front of him. She looked up into his eyes and put her hand on his knee. She didn't say anything for the space of a minute. 

"Hey. Let me in."

 

Dean's eyes focused on hers. "You are in."

 

She rubbed his knee. "I'm in your pants."

 

"You're in some other places too," Dean said, without a touch of humour. 

 

She felt her heart give a little surprised thump. She stood up and wordlessly straddled his lap and sat down. The feel of him under her was nice. He looked up at her, put his hands on her hips.

 

"Things will be okay." She promised. 

 

He swallowed. 

 

"When people are under stress we lash out at those closest to us. You two will be okay."

 

Dean sighed and leaned his head against her chest. 

 

* * *

 

 

Carrie was wiping off the counter after they'd eaten when Dean came up behind her. He snaked his hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts. She dropped her sponge. "Dean!" She jumped. "Don't do that."

"You like your breasts played with," he breathed into her ear.

"I do," she said squirming a little to break free. "But not when you sneak up on me like that."

He used a hand to brush her hair off her neck. He pressed his lips to her jaw. Carrie let him strip her t-shirt off.

As she twisted with him she realized she was still sore from their over enthusiasm. She felt her stomach flip as he unbuttoned her jeans and stuck his fingers down into her panties.

"Dean." She took him by the wrist and arrested his movement.

Weirdly, and for the first time since they'd met, she didn't actually want sex.

"What baby?" He asked, still pressed to her from behind, his hands motionless under her grip.

"Let me finish the dishes."

He hesitated and then shrugged. "Okay."

Carrie turned on the sink to rinse her hands and wasted some time at the counter. She picked up her discarded shirt and turned around.

Dean was lying naked on the bed. He cocked an eyebrow at her. He patted the mattress with his infectious smile.

She threw her shirt aside and settled in with him. He was pulling her pants down before she could protest.

He stripped them off and then rolled on top of her, catching her with a dark gaze, his pendant swinging between them.

Her breath went out of her with his weight. Even with him taking nearly all of it, he was heavy enough to pin her pelvis under his.

Carrie could feel his erection swelling between them.

Dean slid down her body to kiss her belly and her hips, then her thighs.

She opened to him. He smoothed his hand over her skin and then sucked on the inside of her knee until her heart was pounding. He trailed his lips up and did the same to her inner thigh until she was certain she was going to have a hickey in the morning.

Dean slid back up to his original position. He bore her down with his weight, it stretched her legs apart enough for it to be uncomfortable. Carrie moaned as he gently closed his lips over her ear lobe. Her hands slid over the slicked sweat of his back. Dean took his hand and guided himself to her entrance and started to push in. The pain made Carrie catch her breath. It hurt. He seemed to realize that she was tight and he kept it to a few shallow thrusts.

The pain was worse than it had been since the first day they'd had intercourse. Her body wouldn't yield to him. It kept contracting and fighting the intrusion.

Dean rocked into her with his shallow movements and Carrie cried out. Every thrust hurt, she gritted her teeth with it, bearing it out until he went too deep and she spasmed and cried. His movement stuttered.

 

"Carrie?"

 

"I'm fine." She whispered. "Keep going."

 

Dean started moving again, saw her expression. Stopped. 

 

Her legs were shaking, closing involuntarily around his waist. He pulled out quickly, which had a burning sting and she lay stunned. 

 

"What happened?" He asked. 

 

She shrugged sitting up, feeling weirdly vulnerable as he looked at her. 

 

Dean looked inexplicably angry. 

 

Carrie took it as a rebuff. "You could have kept going..." She curled her knees up and braced herself on her elbow.

 

"No I couldn't!" He was unaccountably pissed, fishing around for his jeans. He grabbed them, pulled them on. 

 

Carrie felt tears threaten. Her insides hurt. She didn't understand why Dean was angry. 

 

"Dean... what's going on?" Was he mad at her for hurting. "I tried to bear it out." Her voice was soft.

 

"That's just it." He snapped. "I don't want you to _bear_ it. What are we? A couple whose been married for 30 years? You're gonna just take one for the team? Think it's fun for me then, huh?" He ran his hand through his hair, shaking a little. "I feel like I'm fucking _raping_ you!"

 

Carrie winced. "I..." The words stuck in her throat and she burst into tears. 

 

Dean was on his feet, buckling his belt. "This is bullshit!"

 

"Dean."

 

"No, Carrie!" He slammed out the door.

 

Carrie sat absolutely stunned at the outburst. She curled up on her side and started to cry.

* * *

 

Carrie lay in her misery and rejection for what felt like a long time. She looked around for a napkin to blow her nose on, crawled over to get one. Her body felt raw. Her mind felt worse. 

 

She started to cry again when she thought about Dean. She'd been trying to bear it for his pleasure. And that backfired. She felt like an idiot. And she was in pain like she hadn't been since she'd lost her virginity to him. 

 

She dragged her panties back on and threw her t-shirt over herself. She grabbed a plastic bottle of water and took a long swig. _Okay. Get yourself together. Not the end of the world. He's just a man._

 

The pep talk didn't seem to be working. Carrie flopped back down on the mattress, wiping her eyes. 

 

She heard the door and Dean came back in. The screen door slammed shut behind him. 

 

He didn't look angry when he looked at her. 

 

Carrie looked up at him and she knew that her face had to be a blotchy red mess. 

 

Dean looked at her and his eyebrows rose. "You're still cryin?"

 

That made her start to tear up again. She turned her head away and shrugged. 

 

"Fuck." He ran his fingers through his hair and turned in a part circle before he came back to face her. He dragged his hand over his face. "I'm just not... I'm lookin for fun. I have too much shit in my life to add _this_...whatever this is."

 

The lump in Carrie's throat was too big to swallow. "Then why did you seek me out?" She said heatedly, thoroughly stung by the words. "You knew _this_ was part of the package!" He did too. She'd always been honest with him since that first day.

 

"Feeling like I'm _forcing_ it on you?" he replied. "No. I didn't know that was."

 

"I'm sorry my body doesn't work right, okay? I'm sorry that's an inconvenience for you!" She stood up to face him down in her oversized t-shirt and panties and nothing else. "Cause its _great_ for me!"

 

Dean bristled and she could see him visibly reining back his anger. "Do you know what that feels like?" he asked, and there was actually a crack to his voice. 

 

"What?" She asked, thrown by his sudden change of mood. 

 

"Feelin' like I'm forcing myself on you!" Dean backed up a step. 

 

Carrie's mouth shut. 

 

"I look down and you've got your teeth clenched and you're practically cryin!" Dean's lower lip trembled a little. "You think that makes me feel good? I feel like crap!"

 

Carrie could feel the tears start again. "I was just trying to ride it out for you. I thought it would get better."

 

He turned his shoulder to her for a minute. She could sense his discomfort with her reaction. His urge to leave. She sensed that there was a precarious balance here, that the wrong move on either of their parts would make this irreparable if it wasn't already. Maybe Dean was looking for an out from their arrangement. Maybe she'd been a novel toy and now he was done with her. 

 

"If...if you want to end this," she wiped her arm across her eyes, "then fine." She let out a sob. "I know I was just meant to be a booty call. I crossed the line. I'm sorry."

 

Dean softened. She saw his posture change from defensive to caring.

 

"Carrie, C'mere." He stepped toward her and opened his arms. She fell into them, put her head into his shoulder. She felt Dean ghost his lips over her hair in a gentle kiss. 

 

The brushed cotton of his t-shirt was soft under her cheek. 

 

"What happened?" he asked. "I thought we were past it."

 

"I don't know. It just hurt."

 

"You let me know next time." He said, his hand rubbing her back as she clung to him. "It's just..." His voice was thick. "Feeling like I'm forcing myself on you..."

 

"You weren't." She assured.

 

He tightened his hold. She could feel how upset he was. 

 

"Dean, you weren't. What's wrong?" She broke away to look up at him. She touched his cheek. He closed his eyes. "Baby?" Her own tears were forgotten in her concern. the depth of his upset was confusing to her. "You didn't." She shuffled him over to a chair. He sat heavily on it. 

 

She stood over him and plucked at a lock of his spiky bangs. She pulled it through her fingers and smoothed it onto his forehead. He leaned his head into her torso. She held him wordless, running her fingers over his scalp, soothing with touch. 

 

She wasn't sure he wanted to talk, even though the outburst had her baffled. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nuthin." He said into her shirt. 

 

She smoothed her hands over his broad shoulders, inhaled the scent of him. She'd missed it. His whiskey, cheap cologne, motel soap scent. 

 

He breathed slowly out his nose and swallowed, looked up at her through his long dark lashes. "Hunting gets hard. It's one crappy thing after another. Shit on top of shit and I have to be..." he paused. "I have to be someone else out there. I've gotta be a killer."

 

"I know you do, baby."

 

He nuzzled into her again, almost needy with his affection. He squeezed her sides. Carrie straddled him and Dean settled back to let her. He dropped his head into her breasts. 

 

She was still sore and her body reminded her of it when she settled on him. 

 

He mouthed her breast through her t-shirt. "Wanna just lose myself in you, baby."

 

"I'm sorry that you can't right now."

 

He sighed. "I can." He said. "You're letting me. Don't gotta be _in_ you to lose myself in you."

 

"That's kind of romantic." She whispered. 

 

Dean snorted, his nose pushing against her breast. "I should write poetry."

 

She could tell where his mind was heading, wasn't sure she wanted to go down that path. "Dean, I'm not up for sex."

 

His expression was a little crestfallen. He lifted her shirt and kissed her breast. "What." He kissed her again. "If." Again. "Its. Just. Some. Teasing."

 

She pushed his head away gently. "Cuddling. That's all." She took her shirt back down. 

 

"Cuddling is nice." He said. She got off him and flopped onto the bed. He spooned up behind her at first then pulled her so she was on her back and slipped down low so that his head was pillowed on her breasts again. Her arms went around him, almost maternal in her affection. 

 

"Nothin' feels better than this." He sighed. 

 

"Not even sex?" She asked. 

 

"Okay. Sex does." He said, burrowing in. He kissed her ribcage through the shirt. "But you're so soft and warm."

 

"I miss you when you're gone." She said, her fingers rubbing behind his ear. 

 

"Yeah?" He asked, squeezing her to him, his biceps rippling strong and big as he did.

 

"Yeah."

 

"I think about you sometimes." He whispered. 

 

"Oh really?" She said archly. "Out of all your girls you think of me?" She realized it sounded a little jealous as soon the words were out of her throat. 

 

He looked up at her, his mouth open a little. "We exclusive? Am I missin' something here?"

 

"No." Carrie let him go and brushed her long blonde hair back. "I didn't mean it how it sounded."

 

"It sounded like you're mad."

 

"I'm not." _Fuck. This was all wrong._ Maybe she was mistaken thinking they had any kind of connection outside of sex. That he had any feelings for her outside of sexual ones. This was one of the first times he couldn't use her as a sexual outlet and here they were sniping at each other. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that you have a lot of choices to fantasize about."

 He was still looking up at her. Devastatingly handsome. His black lashes, moss green gaze, straight nose. Those lips. "Yeah well I think about you." He dropped his voice a little lower. "When I'm alone. In the dark."

 He kissed at her stomach through the shirt. 

 "Don't you have your brother there with you?"

 He snorted.  "Not always.... you think about me alone in the dark?" His voice was husky.

She laughed. "Dean...are you trying to dirty talk me?"

"It's not dirty. It's beautiful and natural."

She laughed.

He gave her a devilish grin. "And maybe a little dirty."

"Why wouldn't you dream about one of your bar hookups?

"Stop changing the subject," he whispered. "Because you're my fantasy girl. Not a hook up."

He rubbed his cheek against her stomach, his head still pillowed on her mid-section. He was so fucking gorgeous. It almost wasn't fair.

"You never answered the question," he said.

"Of course I think about you."

He looked pleased. He glowed with the admission. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I told you earlier that I do."

"What do you do when you think of me?"

"Oh my god! You are trying to dirty talk me." She grabbed a nearby pillow and bopped him with it.

He took the blow with a laugh.

"This isn't cuddling..." She gasped, his head still on her.

He twisted to look up at her, his chin laying on her stomach. "Yeah it is. I'm not touching you."

"You're so BAD."

A smile ghosted his lips. "I'm so good." He replied. "So, so good, baby."

She pushed at his shoulder until he fell off. "Get. Go on."

He crawled up and grabbed her in his arms. She tried to wrestle out of his grip but he was strong. She gave up panting and giggling, pressed to his chest.

"Can't get away that easy." He said playfully, throwing his heavy thigh over her legs. "Trapped." He crowed. "Trapped, trapped."

"You suck." She laughed.

He licked his lips. The moisture glistened off the perfectly shaped bow. "Only when you want me to."

He kissed her jaw.

"Deeean."

"Hmmm?" He asked, nipping.

"This isn't cuddling."

"You're in my arms, sure it is."

Carrie tried to weigh whether she should give in and let him have his way or challenge him a little more. "Why are you so insistent?"

"One track mind, baby."

"Please." She said, her expression serious. "My body hurts."

He loosened his grip, his eyes taken aback. "Oh."

It did too now that she was focused on it. Carrie kissed his strong jawline. Kissed the faint little scar he had just under his chin, the only thing he had on him to mar the perfection.

She slid her hand to the waist of his jeans. "Want me to jerk you off instead?"

He looked at her. Licked his lips again and reached down to unbuckle his pants. Dean looked back up at her expression and stopped. She started to reach for him and he brushed her hand away. "No. Forget it." 

"But I can..."

 

"No." Dean shook his head and stood up.  

 

"What is your problem?" Carrie asked, feeling slightly offended. _  
_

 

"I need some air," he said gruffly.

 

She got up, trying to ignore the protest in her body and followed him. She hissed and pressed a hand over her stomach for a bit and he raised an eyebrow. She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you seriously leaving because I won't fuck you?"

 

Dean looked very offended. "Is that what you fucking think? What part of I'm stepping out to get some air don't you understand?"

 

"I don't understand any of this right now. Is this what you do every time things get real?" Carrie challenged a bit pissily.

 

He looked stormy again suddenly as he put on his boots, pulling the laces extra tight in frustration. "This is me. You don't like it..." he shrugged and slammed out the door. 

 

Carrie layed down and curled up with her pain, sore and burning and cramping. She had always known in her heart that she and Dean weren't going to work out but she hadn't wanted things to end like this. _Like this._...watching the ship start to sink and not knowing how to bail out the water fast enough. If she told him to stop every time it hurt. Well then she'd be telling him to stop every time they made love...she had to correct her train of thought. To _her_ it had been making love... to D ean it was clearly just having sex. She started to cry again, feeling weak and pathetic and hating this side of herself that was so hung up on what he thought of her. Fuck him. He didn't understand. He didn't. She was alone in this, as always. She dozed. 

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
